(po)

At the post office
two men are leaning
against the wall
waiting
the way migrant
workers wait
on street corners
to get picked up
for a day’s work.

I do not know
what these men
wait for.
They are not together
one leans on the back
wall of the builing
facing the front door
the other, an amputee,
leans against a bank
of post office boxes.

The amputee is wearing
short pants, his
prothesis visible
for all of us to see
he is used to it Ij’m
sure, to him it is
just life,
his body, or lack
thereof.
I cannot stare
but I glimpse
is a metal rod
going into a shoe,
something that seems
too thin to stand on.